


I Hate My New Neighbor

by chattersbug



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste Acts Like Chat Noir, Adult Adrien Agreste, Adult Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Aged-Up Character(s), All The Ships, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, And they're both absolute messes, Apartment AU, Attempted Kidnapping, Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Chat Noir Adrien Agreste and Ladybug Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Dork Adrien Agreste, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Hate to Love, Hostage Situations, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, Hot Mess Marinette Dupain-Cheng, It's rated T for teen though, Love/Hate, Mild Blood, Neighbors, Non-Graphic Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pairings are based on personality, There is a bit of fighting, There is a knife, They're both like in their mid 20s, sorry for the spoilers in the tags i just need to make sure people know what they're getting into
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chattersbug/pseuds/chattersbug
Summary: Marinette is woken up again by sounds coming from the apartment above her. Irritated, she goes up to confront her new upstairs neighbor, Adrien--a handsome and seemingly irresponsible playboy that Marinette immediately hates upon meeting. The two of them don't seem like they're ever going to get along...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This might become a chapter fic depending on how I feel about it, but for now, it's a little one-shot! Let me know if you want me to continue this one! In this AU Adrien has no problem being Chat Noir.

Marinette was woken up by another loud thump coming from the apartment above her. The person who lived up there had just moved in last week, and apparently they didn’t know that they had downstairs neighbors. She groaned, dragging herself out of bed. She slipped on her robe (red with black polka-dots, of course) and her ladybug slippers, dragging her feet across the floor. 

 

Whoever they were, she’d just about had it with them. Not only did they wake her up in the early morning, but she could hear them stumbling up the stairs at night nearly every night, probably after some partying out on the town. Completely irresponsible.

 

She flicked on the light, petting Tikki, her small orange cat who was perched on the back of the couch, as she walked into the living room. It was a quaint little place—only one bedroom—filled with photographs and sewing projects. Everything was pink and polka-dots, a style she never grew out of from her teen years. It made her feel like she was back at the bakery with her parents.

 

She had been living in that crumbling apartment for years. The woman who had lived above her, Ms. Moreau, had been moved into assisted living when her son found out she had adopted 9 cats out of loneliness. It was a sad day when Ms. Moreau left. Who would Marinette knit tea cozies and share baking secrets with now? Probably not whoever had moved in after her. 

 

Marinette had given up on yelling up through the ceiling, and even hitting it with the handle of her broom. No matter how many times she yelled up at them, the banging continued at night. 

 

She was about to take a more direct approach: slamming on their door in her pajamas, demanding to know what they were doing at 2 o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday. She steeled herself and climbed up the stairs to the third floor. Apartment 304.

 

On the fourth series of knocks, her neighbor finally opened the door. He was wearing a black pajama shirt and black cotton sweatpants, and wore bright green furry slippers. His blonde hair stood up at funny angles, and it was clear he had just woken up recently. Although sleepy, his green eyes were piercing. 

 

“What the _hell_ are you doing in here?” Marinette glared at him with daggers. “Do you know how many times you’ve woken me up since you moved in?” She pushed past him, opening his door up wider so she could look inside. “I can’t believe all the noise you make in here. Do you live alone? I want to talk to your roommates, too.” She planted her hands on her hips, trying to look as intimidating as she could. She was inches away from him, so close she could feel the heat radiating off him.

 

He was at least a head taller than her, maybe more. The expression on his face proved satisfying to Marinette: he was in complete shock. He took a cautious step back into his apartment, holding onto the door. 

 

“Uh… I live alone, except for my cat, who loves to climb all over everything at night. I swear, he doesn’t sleep. He likes to swat things off any table or counter he can.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the headache that was starting behind his eyes. He looked down at her again, smiling apologetically. “He doesn’t like the new apartment, I don’t think. He’s having a hard time adjusting.” His apologetic smile turned into a charming one; it was clear he was trying to coax her into letting him off easy. “So sorry, miss. I’m sure he’ll adjust soon, and you can get a good night’s sleep.”

 

Marinette did feel a little guilty about being so rude, considering it was the poor cat that was making all that noise. Her own Tikki had a difficult time when she moved out of her parent’s house: she didn’t sleep for weeks.

 

She studied him for a moment. With a closer look, she was taken aback by how handsome he was, even with his bedhead. His face was almost ladylike, with soft but strong features. He had long brown eyelashes and a soft smile, and his build was lean but muscular. He looked like a model. 

 

She couldn’t let that stop her from standing her ground. He might be cute, but he seemed like a jerk, and she wasn’t going to fall for whatever game he was playing.

 

He, on the other hand, could tell that she was going to be difficult to appease. She was small, but she carried herself with an air of authority he had only ever seen in his father. He couldn’t stand people like this. He re-thought his approach. 

 

“Would you like to come in for some tea?”

 

She looked up at him with surprise. He was inviting her in for tea? At 2AM? She crossed her arms and frowned up at him silently. This guy was totally crazy. 

 

“I don’t think we’ve met before.” He continued, sensing her apprehension. “My name is Adrien. I think we got off on the wrong foot? Tea is the least I can do, _princess.”_ He gave a low, mocking bow and grinned up at her, eyes bright. 

 

Marinette let out a loud scoff, sticking her nose up in the air. Now he was _mocking_ her? He tried to stifle a laugh, instead making a snorting noise. He stood up straight again. “I see you’re not a fan of pet names.”

 

 

She was not having any of this. Ignoring his comment, she shoved her finger into his chest and sneered. “Maybe if you can figure out how to control your cat and stop waking me up in the middle of the night, we can discuss tea. If I hear another sound coming from this apartment, I’m going to throw you out myself.” With that, she spun around, her hair nearly whipping him as she turned. She stormed back down the stairs, slippers flopping with each step. “The nerve of some people, I swear to god. Men especially! What an—” He could hear her muttering as she made her way down the stairs. 

 

Adrien watched her go, chuckling to himself.“Looks like we just met our downstairs neighbor, Plagg.” He bent down to give his black cat a scratch behind the ears. He thought about her, standing there with her hands on her hips, her robe hanging loose off her shoulder. _That girl is a firecracker_ , he thought, closing the door.

 

“She seems nice, doesn’t she?”


	2. An Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien got locked out of his apartment, and thinking Marinette’s apartment is his own, he tries to break in. Marinette almost kills him with a broom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back by popular demand! I think I might make this one a daily chapter fic for a little while, as some writing practice, so I'm going to keep each chapter pretty sort! Enjoy!

Marinette spent the entire next day fuming about her encounter the previous night. Huffing around her apartment as she worked on various sewing projects, Tikki watched her with big, blue eyes. Occasionally, she would rub against her shins and meow at her, asking for attention or food. Marinette sometimes felt as thought Tikki could talk to her, and although she knew that was ridiculous, it was nice to have someone to confide in when she was alone. 

 

“I know, Tikki, I shouldn’t have lost my cool at him.” Marinette looked at her cat from her desk, who was sitting in her favorite reading chair. Her face seemed to say, _you don’t even know him. First impressions can be misleading, you know._

 

“I know! He was just _so rude_ , and you should have seen the way he mocked me. It was totally unwarranted. And he invited me in for tea at 2am! 2am, Tikki! Ridiculous.” She threw her hands up, exasperated. “I was hoping the new neighbor would be another nice old lady. Instead it’s some _delinquent_.”

 

Tikki looked at her as if to say, _you weren’t being much better. He even introduced himself. You didn’t even tell him your name._ She got up, stretched, and hopped of the chair. She shot her a knowing look before sauntering into the other room.

 

Marinette did sort of regret not introducing herself, or going about telling him off in a more polite manner. But there was no way she was going to apologize to him. He’s the one who has been making all of that noise at night. He needed to apologize first, and that was that.

 

She spent the rest of the day working on her projects. This was her daily routine, usually. She worked from home most days, designing works for various brands and creating prototypes. Sometimes she visited the offices of the designers she worked for, brainstorming new lines and receiving feedback. She didn’t want to brag, but she had designed works for almost all of the high-end lines in Paris. Honestly, she could probably afford a bigger apartment by now, but she didn’t mind the small and cozy space. It felt like her room back at the bakery.

 

She had designed clothes for _almost_ every designer in Paris, except for one. Gabriel Agreste. He was elusive, only taking the highest quality designs. She was going to have to step up her game. 

 

She finished her work for the day, and spent the afternoon in her usual, uneventful routine: dinner, feed Tikki, clean up around the house, and then change into her pajamas and read She had recently started a book about two superheroes who were obliviously in love with the other’s alternate identity. She didn’t really read fantasy anymore, but this one was too good to put down.

 

She had lost track of time when the sound of the doorknob rattling tore her attention away from her book. She heard it rattle again, this time with more force, as if someone was trying to break in. She shot a glance at the clock: 12am. Quietly, she set her book down on the coffee table and tiptoed to the closet to get her broom. The doorknob was still rattling, and she could hear someone on the other side of the door let out a frustrated groan. 

 

With lightening speed, she unlocked the door and threw it open in two fluid motions, holding up her broom and shouting, “You picked the wrong apartment to break into!” She nearly swung her broom down before noticing who it was. 

 

“GAAH!” The perpetrator fell away from the door, landing square on his bottom. “You’re crazy!” He shouted up at her, shielding his face with his arm. It was Adrien from upstairs.

 

“Oh, my god,” Marinette said, lowering the broom. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you trying to break into my apartment?” She offered him a hand up, which he gratefully took, wobbling as he steadied himself against her doorframe. 

 

“This is your apartment?” He looked at the number, eyes wide. “Aw, shit.” He was clearly drunk, his words coming out slightly slurred and heavy. Marinette sighed. 

 

“Yeah, yours is upstairs, remember? Or did you get lost coming up the stairs?” She snickered.

 

Adrien shot her a pointed look, dusting off the back of his pants. He was wearing a blue t-shirt under a leather jacket, dark jeans, and bright orange sneakers. Although everything he was wearing looked a little beat-up, it fit him perfectly. Marinette looked away.

 

“I lost my keys somewhere, I dunno where, and the landlord wouldn’t wake up when I knocked, so I figured I would just like, break into my own apartment. S’no big deal.” He shrugged his shoulders, looking a little too casual for the situation he was in. 

 

“You don’t have a spare?” 

 

“Nah, I haven’t had one made yet. I didn’t think I would get locked out my first week here.” He rolled his eyes. “I guess I’ll go upstairs and sleep in the hallway until the landlord wakes up.” He was having a hard time hiding his disappointment. “Sorry for bothering you again, I’ve had kind of a rough week.”

 

He turned to leave, shoulders drooping. He looked like a stray that had been turned away for the night. She felt a twinge of pity for him. “Wait!” He turned around, surprised. She held out her hand.

 

“I’m Marinette,” she said, giving him the nicest smile she could muster. There was no point in trying to fight with him anymore; he was clearly a mess, and he could honestly probably use a friend. 

 

The look on her face was so forced, it made Adrien laugh. He took her hand and kissed the back of it, smirking. A look of surprise, amusement, and embarrassment shot across her face, and she yanked her hand away. “Oh, you’re quite the joker, aren’t you?”

 

“You gotta live a little, Miss Ladybug.” He looked her up and down, chuckling at his own joke. He pointed to her robe and slippers. “They’re cute. Ladybugs are good luck, ya know? Like how I’m _so lucky_ to have met you.”

 

She blushed, looking down at her pajamas. “I’m well aware, thanks,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “If I’m a Ladybug, then you’re a black cat—unlucky and always getting into trouble. Every time I see you, disaster strikes.”

 

Adrien looked at her for a moment, excited that she was playing along with his joke. She looked so serious, brows furrowed, arms crossed over her chest that he couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing. He laughed so loud Marinette was afraid he would wake the neighbors. 

 

“A black cat?” He said between gasps. “ _Chat Noir, ma dame._ ” He laughed harder, clumsily bowing as low as he could. “ _Bonjour, je m’appelle Chat Noir_ ,” he said in slurred French, laughing hysterically. 

 

Marinette couldn’t help but laugh, too. His face was bright red, and his broken French was so ridiculous that it was embarrassing. He had tears in his eyes, and it was the most genuine he had seemed since she met him. He actually looked pretty nice when he laughed, she thought. Nothing like the delinquent she had met last night. 

 

The apartment door next to them opened up, and a small man with a red face peered out into the hallway. “Quiet down, would you? Some people are trying to sleep!” He hissed.

 

Marinette and Adrien were both caught off guard, heads whipping around to look at him. “Sorry,” they said at the same time, Marinette’s tone weak and apologetic while Adrien was still chuckling. 

 

He shot them a look and went back into his apartment, closing the door. Adrien and Marinette looked at each other and stifled their laughs. 

 

She smiled with genuine happiness this time. “Would you like to come in?” Her expression changed, realizing what she had said. “Don’t get any funny ideas, though. I’m still mad at you for keeping me up and trying to break into my apartment.” She crossed her arms again. “However, I can’t just let you sit in the hallway all night. I’m not a monster.” 

 

Adrien’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Thank you!” He smiled sheepishly. “I wish I had something to give you for your hospitality.” He held out his hands, a sloppy smile on his face. “I didn’t come prepared, though. Oh yeah, don’t worry about Plagg; I always leave him extra food and water. He’ll be fine until morning.” 

 

She rolled her eyes and stepped out of the way, letting him walk past her into the apartment. She closed the door, put the broom away, and made her way into the kitchen to put on the tea-kettle. “Make yourself at home,” she half-shouted from the other room. 

 

Adrien stood in the middle of her living room, taking it in. There were piles of fabric stacked neatly on the floor near a large desk, a couple of dress mannequins with half-finished dresses on them nearby. The couch in the middle of the living room was overstuffed and pink, matching the chair in the corner of the room by the bookshelf. She had too many books for that little bookshelf; she had stacked the ones that didn’t fit in precarious piles on top of it. There was no TV, just a coffee table in the middle of the room with some large fashion books on it. 

 

He was struck most by how many photos she had carefully tacked up on the walls. Dozens of smiling faces looked back at him, some blurry, some young, a couple of them with her in them as well. Some of them looked to be years old, back from when she was young, while many of them were relatively new. A photo of her and what he assumed were her parents sat on her desk in a large gold frame. They stood in front of the bakery down the street, beaming at the camera. She looked to be about fifteen in that one. 

 

Marinette came into the room holding two floral mugs in her hands. “Those are my parents, and that’s their bakery,” she remarked, noticing him staring at the photo. “I used to help them run it, before I got into the fashion business."

 

He felt a twinge of jealousy looking at her parents, which he carefully shoved to the back of his head. _So she’s a designer, huh. What a coincidence._ “They look really nice,” he said, taking a mug. “Now that you mention it, you do look like a baker’s daughter.” 

 

She gave him a curious and irritated look, sitting down. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

 

He thought for a moment, sitting next to her, and shrugged. “I dunno, you seem humble, but you also have a ‘take-no-shit’ attitude.” He sipped his tea, looking away. _It’s kind of annoying, honestly._ “This is good,” he said, trying to change the subject. 

 

She laughed. “Well you remind me of an alley cat. You know, one that skulks around looking for food at night,” she said in a playful tone. “I’m almost worried about you. Almost.” To be fair, she _was_ a little worried, even if he was an obnoxious playboy. 

 

He looked at her, wondering if she really meant it. She had a playful look on her face, but her eyes were soft. He relaxed a little. “I am really sorry about all that…” He looked embarrassed. “And, well, about _this_.” He gestured to himself, laughing. “I am actually a responsible adult, I swear. This week has just been rough. My dad keeps making me attend this stupid events, makes me go to the after-parties…” He mumbled, trailing off. He had said too much. He didn’t want to get into his personal life; he hardly even knew her. 

 

Marinette could sense that this was a sore subject. She shrugged, putting her mug down on the coffee table. “Ah, well, everyone has bad weeks, right?” She gave him a sympathetic look. He was starting to make a lot more sense to her—the late nights, the drinking. She got up and walked into the other room, bringing back a pillow and a blanket. 

 

“Normally, I wouldn’t let a complete stranger sleep in my house, but I think I could take you if you tried anything.” She said, eyeing him. She had laughed, but her eyes were serious. “I sleep with a knife under my pillow, too.” She didn’t actually, but she hoped it sounded threatening. 

 

Adrien took the pillow and blanket from her, smiling. “Thanks, Marinette. I appreciate it. And I promise I won’t try to break in again.” 

 

She picked up the mugs, giving him one last smile. “Good. If you do, I’m calling the police next time. Goodnight, _Chat Noir_ ,” She giggled, walking into the other room.

 

He chuckled. “Goodnight, Ladybug.”


	3. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien wakes up alone in a strange apartment. Meanwhile, Alya and Marinette catch up over coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short one today (only about 1,000 words)! Some information about where Alya and Nino are, because I know I'm curious. Plot building, all that good stuff! I'll be back with a longer chapter tomorrow!

When Adrien woke up, he didn’t know where he was. Disoriented, he sat up, pulling the blanket off of him. He looked around, trying to piece together his memories from last night. Mostly, he remembered trying to break into someone's apartment, and Marinette yelling at him, calling him… What was it? Chat Noir?

 

"Oh my god," he said aloud, putting his face in his hands. "I can't believe this, I can't believe this. This is so embarrassing. I can never show my face here again. In fact, I need to move to another country entirely. Maybe Italy." 

 

He had made a fool of himself many times while drinking, but everyone around him was always equally as drunk. At the parties his father forced him to go to, full of other models and actors, drinking with them to network was an unspoken rule. Arrogant models and rich people from all over the area attended the parties, and Adrien was no exception. His father made it clear that if he didn't attend the parties and do all of the work he assigned him, he would make sure his modeling career was over permanently. 

 

He glanced down at the coffee table to find his watch and wallet laid out in front of him. He also found a glass of water, some painkillers, and a note. He popped the painkillers and took a swig of his water, picking up the note. It was from Marinette. 

 

_Chaton—_

_Running late to a meeting, didn’t want to wake you. Please lock the door on your way out. Don’t steal anything._

_—Ladybug_

 

Was this going to be a regular thing from now on, these nicknames? He got up, folded his blanket, and stacked it with the pillow neatly on the couch. He rinsed his glass in the sink, grabbed his wallet and watch, and took one last look at the photographs on her wall. Her and her friends were smiling out at him. His heart ached with jealousy. It seemed like Marinette had everything in the world: the loving family, the loving friends, the job she was passionate about. He looked at a recent photo of her, beaming up at the camera, her arm swung around someone else; she was glowing bright. He thought, for a moment, that she reminded him of the moon. 

 

Irritation bubbled inside of him. 

 

He gave the orange cat a quick scratch on his way out the door. Plagg was going to go crazy when he smelled another cat on him. 

 

* * *

  

Marinette was running really late. Frantically, she rushed down the stairs at a pace that nearly sent her flying. Alya was going to kill her. She paced quickly down the street, half walking, half jogging, putting on her coat and purse as she went. The coffee shop they were visiting was pretty close, so she really had not excuse for being late. However, she had a feeling that all would be forgiven when she told her about that night she’d had. 

 

Rushing into the coffee shop, she spotted Alya sitting at their usual table in the corner. Her hair was cut shorter now than it was when they were in high school, but still retained it’s flounce and color. Marinette had done the opposite, growing her hair out long. She always kept it up in a bun.

 

She sat down across from Alya, huffing. “Listen, I know I’m late, but I had a crazy night last night,” she said between puffs. 

 

Alya laughed. “It’s cool Marinette, I always plan to meet with you like, fifteen minutes early anyways.” She leaned in, getting right down to business. “So, tell me all about your night. Was it a man? Are you finally dating someone? Oh, or a woman? Your texts were so vague, I’m dying to know.”

 

Marinette shot her a look. “It did have to do with a man, but it wasn’t like that.” She leaned in too. “He’s really gorgeous though. I mean like, model pretty. Too bad he’s a walking disaster,” she laughed. 

 

She recounted the events of her night, explaining about the night before as well. The new, rude man in her apartment building with a loud cat. How he tried to break into her apartment because he thought it was his. 

 

“You let him sleep on your couch! You have no sense of danger, I’m telling you.” Alya nearly shouted.

 

“Shhh shh! You’re too loud! I felt so bad for him, Alya, he was pathetic. He was like a stray cat. I couldn’t just like, leave him out in the hallway.”

 

Alya shrugged. “I dunno, I would have. Dude seems like kind of a jerk. And getting drunk on a Wednesday? I thought you were eventually supposed to grow out of that phase.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyways, you said he was cute. Despite him being a total mess, do you think he’s, you know? Like, dating material?”

 

Marinette leaned back in her chair and laughed. “No way! Why would you even ask me that after what I told you?” 

 

“Because, maybe deep down he’s actually a really good person who has just run into some trouble and needs a little TLC?” She chuckled.

 

“You _know_ it’s a terrible idea to date ‘fixer-uper’ men! Like, I’m not his mom, or his therapist, or whatever. Dating him isn’t going to magically sort his things out, he’s gotta do that himself.” 

 

Alya laughed. “I know, I know. I was just kidding. Well, half kidding. You could just like, mess around, you know?” She sipped her coffee nonchalantly. “No harm in getting a little action.” 

 

Marinette blushed furiously, taking a sip of her own coffee to avoid the topic. “I don’t really think he’s that type, even if he pretends to be. He seems like, really sad. Also, he said something about his dad forcing him to go to events and parties and stuff. I feel kind of bad for him.”

 

“Well, I just hope he didn’t steal anything out of your apartment. Inviting a man into your place that you hardly know just because he locked himself out? And then _leaving him there alone?_ That’s crazy, even for you.”

 

Marinette sensed an opportunity to change the topic. “Oh, speaking of men, how are you and Nino?” 

 

Alya rolled her eyes again. “Things are great. Like, perfect even. We’re so happy living together, it’s like, the cute domestic life I’ve always dreamed of. He gets to go to venues DJing, and I have my journalism, and things are great.” She sighed, leaning onto the table. “Except, well… He hasn’t even hinted that he wants to get married or anything. We’ve been dating for eight years. Eight years, Marinette. And like, I could ask him, but I don’t want to bring it up because like, what if it’s weird?”

 

“I don’t think Nino would have any problem just talking about it with you, Alya. He’s like, totally in love with you,” she retorted, stirring her coffee. “You guys were basically made for each other.” Marinette felt that aching feeling again, like something was missing. Not necessarily a partner or anything, but just, _something._ Like somewhere along the way, the wrong thing happened, and things weren’t on the correct path anymore.

 

“Marinette? Hello?” Alya was waving in front of her face. 

 

She came to her senses and the feeling subsided. “Yeah! Sorry, I was just thinking about how I would design your wedding dress.”

 

Alya practically hopped out of her chair. She started to ramble, excited. “You would? Really? I was going to ask you anyways, but I’m so glad to hear that you would. It would be super amazing. Not white, either, but something cool, like what if I used a red wedding dress? Fire, right? I’m not much for white clothes anyways—” Alya stopped suddenly.

 

“I totally forgot!” She dug through her purse, pulling out a flyer. “Marinette, this is your big ticket.” She handed it to her. 

 

It was a flyer Marinette had seen before. It announced a design competition for Gabriel Agreste’s new line, _Amour_. The theme was centered around love and heartbreak. Marinette honestly thought it was a little bleak. “Ah, yeah, that. Thanks Alya, but I don’t think I could really handle the theme. Heartbreak? I’ve never even been in love! What do I know about heartbreak?” She laughed with more bitterness than she had intended.

 

“Come on, Marinette! It’s not every day that a design competition like this comes along! Remember, the last one was in high school, where you designed that cool hat? Except this is way bigger. He already knows you and what you’re capable of, and your work is everywhere. This is like, the final push!” She threw her hands up excitedly. “If you didn’t force me to enter that writing competition, I wouldn’t be where I am today! Risks are a good thing sometimes, you know?” 

 

Marinette hesitated. “I’ll think about it, okay? I just don’t know if I’m up to the task, and besides, I have so much work to do. Working for Gabriel Agreste is like, a huge deal, but I’m happy with the work I’m doing now.” 

 

“As long as you’ll consider it, Marinette.” Alya slipped the flyer into her hand. “It could be big!” She looked at the clock. “Oh, shoot! I gotta head to work!” She got up, giving Marinette a hug. “You’re great, and amazing, and perfect, and beautiful, and I love you!”

 

Marinette laughed into her hair. “I love you too! Now get to work before you get fired!”


	4. The Life of a Model

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Adrien's life shows just how dreary and boring it is being a model. With a cold father and only one real friend, Adrien spends many of his nights in the same destructive routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I was at pride this weekend and didn't get a chance to write, but I have a new chapter, and will be updating this every day for about a week!

Adrien had come to despise work. Over the years, it had become a chore with which he grappled on a daily basis. When he was a teen modeling didn’t bother him so much; it was one of the few times he was able to see other people, make friends, and enjoy himself. Along with fencing, modeling had been a respite from his father’s vice-grip on his life. That is, until it became the only thing he did during the day once his studies were finished. 

 

When Adrien turned eighteen, he moved out of the sprawling Agreste mansion immediately. He packed up the few things he actually wanted to keep (his saber, the few photographs of his mother he still had, and his small black cat) and moved to the furthest apartment he could find. But there was no way he was going to escape his father’s careful watch so easily. No, his father wouldn’t let him tarnish his reputation: he needed his son to continue his act, to show the world that the Agreste name was still powerful.

 

Adrien could have walked away from his father, never looking back. He could have easily run off to another country or somewhere else in France without leaving a trace. He could have cut off all ties. He could have told him off. He had many options. 

 

He chose none of them.

 

He had complicated feelings about his father. When he was little, he had been a warm, kind, and caring man. When his mother disappeared, his father grew cold and his eyes turned to ice. Adrien wasn’t even sure if there was anything left of him after that. Everything became about his work and making sure Adrien was a model child. Adrien even tried to go to school on multiple occasions, sneaking out of the house or away from modeling sessions and lessons. He even made it inside once, but before he could make it to the classroom, his bodyguard lifted him up and carried him back to the car. After enough attempts to get to school, he finally gave up. 

 

Adrien had spent the better part of the last few years moving from apartment to apartment in an attempt to avoid his father. It was a fruitless effort: he always found him again through some shady contact eventually. And even then, his father still had a grip on his schedule. Adrien didn’t really know why he continued to model for his father—maybe it was because he didn’t have anything else he could do. Modeling was really the only thing he had ever known besides his fencing and piano, but those were things he loved, and he couldn’t turn them into mindless work like his modeling career. 

 

He made his way across Paris to the location of today’s shoot. After the shoot there was an event his father wanted him to attend, and then a party in which he was expected to network with the other models and employers in Paris. He had only recently taken to drinking during the parties in a last-ditch effort to piss off his father. He hardly seemed to notice. 

 

The shoot was simple today: he would pose with a beautiful model named Rita, lounging in a staged bedroom. This shoot was for a perfume, one he couldn’t remember the name of and frankly didn’t care to ask. They held uncomfortable pose after uncomfortable pose, bodies bent around each other as though they were playing an intense game of twister. In between shots they would make mindless smalltalk about the weather or work. It was the same story as any other day.

 

When Adrien got off work, he was whisked away to an event being held by his father. It was around 6pm when he arrived at Le Grand Paris, wearing a stifling suit and tie that scratched around the collar and cuffs. He was completely used to being uncomfortable and hot in the clothes he was dressed in by his father, so the itching came as a minor inconvenience to him. The moment he stepped inside the foyer, he heard a loud shriek over the crowd. 

 

“Adrikins!” The voice chirped as he heard the sound of heals clapping against the ground quickly. Familiar arms threw themselves around him from the side, nearly toppling him into the guests nearby. 

 

“Chloé, hey. It’s been a while,” he chuckled, wiggling out of her embrace. Chloé Bourgeois was wearing a yellow, sparkling cocktail dress that looked as equally uncomfortable as his own suit. Her hair was made up into a bun, and she had replaced her garish blue eyeshadow with a softer natural look and red lipstick. 

 

She had always been a close friend of his and they regularly played together as children, but since he had escaped his father’s mansion, he saw Chloé far less often. She had begged him to come live at the hotel with her and her family, but Adrien had gracefully declined the offer: he loved Chloé, but to live with her would be a living nightmare. 

 

“Adrien, how are you? It’s been like, eons since I last saw you.” She studied his face. “Have you been eating okay? You don’t look so good. Still handsome as ever, but you’re not glowing as much as you used to be.” It was rare for Chloé to be showing genuine concern for almost anyone, but Adrien could tell she was serious. 

 

“I’m fine, I’ve just been really busy with work and events.” He gestured openly to the crowd of people. “I think my father is trying to get back at me for moving around so much.” 

 

She pouted, leaning against his arm. “Adrikins, you should just quit this whole business. Seriously, it’s a total drag anyways. I’ve always loved how handsome you look in all those modeling photos and shoots, but like, you’re like, _important_ to me and stuff. We’re like, family and everything.” She smiled up at him, a rare soft smile for Chloé. She had changed in the past couple of years; with her mother absent and her father busy, Adrien and Chloé were incredibly similar. They spent a lot of time together as teens with late nights and sleepovers talking about their parents and their too-high expectations. Chloé realized, after a while, that in order to prevent herself from becoming someone like her mother, she was going to have to change for the better. The revelation lead to her contributing more to charity work and being softer around the edges, but she was still often self-absorbed and blunt, qualities Adrien didn’t think would ever leave her. 

 

“You know it’s complicated with me and my father. I know he pushes me too hard, and I don’t even want to do this work, but at the same time…” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep his voice from breaking. “At the same time, part of me thinks he’s still the same person from when I was a kid, deep down. Like if I keep doing this work for him, he’ll be proud of me.” 

 

Chloé looked up at him with sad, glossy eyes, but she didn’t say a word. They had had this conversation many times before, and the answer was always the same. There was no point in beating a dead horse. 

 

The two of them quietly made their way around the event, greeting familiar faces and introducing themselves to people they didn’t know. It was a slow and dry process of exchanging pleasantries and discussing his father’s latest line. He knew everyone he talked to had to know his reputation for drinking too much at the afterparties, but everyone exchanged the same pleasant smiles and hopeful contact with him anyways—the Agreste name was a powerful one, indeed. Even with his reputation, designers were dying to use him in their shoots and showings. He was good at his job, and kept his personal life out of the professional spotlight. 

 

His father was at the event, somewhere, though he probably wouldn’t see him at all. He avoided him and anyone who was likely to be anywhere near him, and could spot his hulking bodyguard from yards away. He wasn’t even sure what he would say, or whether or not he would be happy or angry to see his father again. It had been a few weeks after he had last seen him in person, and the longer he spent out of his watchful gaze, the more anxious he became about their eventual meeting. Thankfully the event ended without incident, and Adrien was able to sneak away to the afterparty without seeing him. 

 

The afterparty was the same as all of the others. It was loud and sticky, residing in a high-end club on the far end of Paris. He had changed out of his suit and tie and into a denim jacket, a black t-shirt, and plain black pants in the large hotel bathroom before slipping away. He ruffled his hair, letting it hang casually in his face and eyes. _You’re like an alley-cat, always begging for food._ Marinette’s words crossing his mind as he admired his work in the mirror. The person he was looking at was completely different from the person he had been at the event just a half-hour before. _If I’m a ladybug, then you’re a black cat._

 

Women and men alike flirted with him at the party, offering to buy him drinks and asking him to come home with them. Almost all of them were models or actors, and almost all of them were people he had worked with previously. He was sure they all remembered him, but pretended not to for the sake of interesting conversation. He didn’t dance much, mostly mingling with other people and drinking, trying to be interested in what other people were saying. The conversations were always about modeling or fashion, and by the end of the party, Adrien was bored and wasted. 

 

He took a taxi back to the old apartment, his mind buzzing. He couldn’t stop thinking about Marinette, their past two conversations, and all of the photos up on her wall. The photos. He desperately wanted photos like that and friends like that—he wanted to put photos up of all of his friends on the decaying walls of his new apartment. 

 

Was Marinette a friend? He found himself on the second floor, standing in front of her apartment door. There was only one way to find out. 

 

“Mari! Mari! Ms. Ladybug!” He shouted, banging on her door. “Ms. Ladybug, it’s me, the alley cat! Chat Noir!” 

 

He apartment door swung open and a small, bleary-eyed Marinette stood glaring up at him. Her hair was tired in two pigtails that had been ruffled by her sleep, and she wore her usual spotted robe and slippers. Adrien almost gasped aloud; she was so _adorable._

 

“This had got to stop happening, Adrien. Did you lock yourself out again?” 

 

“No! No!” He chuckled, running his hand through his messy hair. “It’s not like that this time, miss lady. I wanted to see you,” he said, pointing a finger at her. 

 

She cocked an eyebrow. “You couldn’t have waited until tomorrow? It’s nearly 3am, and I’m getting _really_ tired of this. I need to go to sleep, and I suggest you do the same.” She stepped back into her apartment and started to close the door. 

 

“Wait!” Adrien shouted, sticking his foot in the door. “I don’t have any friends,” he blurted out. “Well, I have one friend, but she’s…” He trailed off. “I just wanted someone to talk to. I’m sorry.” His voice broke, and Marinette could tell by looking at him that he was about to cry. 

 

Her heart ached for him. She hardly knew him, but for some reason it felt as though she had known him for a long time. She sighed.

 

“Let me make you some tea, alley cat.” He perked up. “On one condition,” She said, blocking the doorway. “You have to tell me what’s going on with you—what is _really_ going on with you. And you need to stop showing up at my door in the middle of the night.” 

 

Adrien didn’t know if it was the buzz of the alcohol or the tone in Marinette’s voice, but he agreed. 

 

She smiled warmly at him, extending her hand. “Come in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Adrien just wants a friend :( next chapter is going to have some delicious drama so get Ready


	5. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien, having shown up at Marinette's apartment again, talks about his relationship with his father and his mother. After talking about his life, Marinette finds out who Adrien really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOoo I had a good time writing this one. I'm not updating as often as I hoped because my left hand has begun to hurt, so I need to go to the doctor soon and figure out what's wrong with it! I start work soon (45 hours a week hoo boy) so updates might come a little sporadically. Anyways, enjoy the update!

Marinette and Adrien found themselves back on her overstuffed couch, drinking tea and exchanging words. Adrien was still drunk, thought he was slowly sobering up, and Marinette was still drowsy, eyes nearly drooping shut every so often. Adrien complimented her on the tea and asked her about Tikki, and they made small talk for a while before Marinette decided to inquire about his situation. 

 

“So… How did you come to live at this apartment building?” She asked casually, trying to make conversation.

 

His eyes darkened suddenly, and he looked down into his cup, watching the reflection of the overhead light bounce off the surface of his tea. He shrugged. 

 

“I don’t have a good relationship with my father. Actually, It would probably be more accurate to say that it’s a bad relationship. I’ve been moving all over Paris since I was eighteen, trying to avoid him. He always finds me eventually.” He looked up at the ceiling. “He’ll definitely find me at this place soon enough. I never stay in one place long enough to get to know my neighbors.” 

 

She was quiet. Marinette couldn’t imagine living a life where she would be constantly running away from her parents. She couldn’t even imagine having a sour relationship with them. The very thought made her stomach flip. 

 

“Ah,” she said, running her finger anxiously over the rim of her mug. “Honestly, I can’t imagine what that must be like. It sounds… Lonely.” She could only think of how much pain he was probably in every day. They sat in silence for a moment. “What about your mother?” Marinette asked, peering over at him. 

 

Adrien sighed. He didn’t look at her. “My mother… She disappeared when I was young. I’m not sure if she ran away, or…” He trailed off, swallowing a lump in his throat. “That’s why my father and I don’t get along. He became cold when she disappeared and has never been the same since.” He gave a short laugh. “I always have dreams about what it was like when she was still around. They’re pretty faint, but they’re some of the happiest memories I have. Some part of me still hopes she’ll come back, and that my father will be happy again.” 

 

“Adrien…” Marinette struggled to find the right words to say. In a situation like this, there was nothing she _could_ say. This was something entirely beyond both her comprehension and their relationship. Instead, she moved closer to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “That’s… That’s really hard.”

 

“Yeah,” Adrien continued. “To make things worse, my father has a strict schedule laid out for me, and a loose control of my finances. I could potentially move away, but… But I think if I _also_ left my father, he would be broken. I hate him and everything he has put me through—it wasn’t fair of him to withdraw so he could lick his own wounds when I was left alone and hurting, too. He should have…” He voice broke. “He should have been there for me. But I still love him. Even now, I’m still wondering how to fix things between us. I always hope doing the things he asks me to will help, but I don’t know if it ever will.” His face was downcast, and he absently swirled the tea around in his mug. 

 

Marinette felt a deep ache, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. She couldn’t recall ever hearing a story as sad as his. She could tell he was sad—it was so easy to see right through him—but she didn’t imagine it would be anything like this. To think he had spent so much time alone, avoiding the only family he had left because it was too painful to bear being around him. She wanted to cry. 

 

Instinctively. she put her arms around him, awkwardly holding him from the side. She clutched him tightly, her small arms reaching around his shoulders. She rested her head on him, her loose hair tickling his face. He was flushed from the alcohol, and heat radiated off of him. She didn’t know what else to do.

 

He was frozen in his seat, unsure of how to react to her hug. He was used to physical touch from the many models he posed with regularly, and from his clingy best friend, but this was different. It was a comforting affection, something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He leaned into her, resting his head on hers. He felt something he hadn’t felt since his mother was around: safe. 

 

The two of them sat that way for a while. Adrien chuckled softly. “You’re the kind of person that wants to fix everyone, aren’t you?” 

 

Marinette didn’t look up. “Not fix,” She said quietly. “There isn’t anything I can do to fix other people. But everyone needs support while they fix themselves. Everyone deserves to have people who care about them.” 

 

Adrien was quiet. He had always been waiting for someone to show up and fix him, he realized. Whether it was his mother returning, or his father suddenly caring about him again, he had been waiting for a long time. She was right, though. Waiting for someone else to fix things wasn’t the answer. It had to be him. 

 

“Oh,” Marinette lifted her head, remembering something. She leaned away from him, one arm still resting on his shoulder. She grabbed her phone off of the couch beside her. “I wanted to exchange numbers.” She gave a small, sheepish smile. “Since you’re upstairs, and I know you… I thought it would be useful. Just in case something happens—again. My parents are right down the street, but it would be nice to know someone in the building.” 

 

Adrien stared at her, eyes wide. He had _maybe_ four contacts in his phone, and two of them were solely for work. This was an entirely new experience for him. 

 

“And,” Marinette continued. “We’re friends!” She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “We should have each other’s numbers. I don’t know,” She laughed. “We could like, share recipes and stuff. I’m guessing you’re the kind of person who doesn’t know how to cook? And I’ll let you know when my parents bring cake over,” She rambled. 

 

She watched as the blush from the alcohol deepened and spread across his face, touching his ears. He looked away and covered his mouth with his hand in embarrassment. _Friends! We’re friends!_ He looked back at her, eyes glittering, the widest smile she had ever seen plastered on his face.

 

“Yeah! Yeah, hang on a sec,” He nearly chirped, digging through his pockets. His enthusiasm was childlike—it made Marinette laugh. He produced a large phone and fumbled with the controls for a while before handing it to her. The two of them traded phones and entered their contact information.

 

In Adrien’s, Marinette wrote: Ladybug 

 

In Marinette’s, Adrien wrote: Handsome Chat Noir ;)

 

Marinette took a look at her phone and laughed. “A little cocky, are we? _Handsome_ and _mangy alley cat_ don’t really go together.”

 

Adrien shot her a smug look and retorted, “Of course I’m handsome; I make my living off of these looks.” He planted his thumb and forefinger under his chin as if to showcase his face. “As a designer, you should know that I’m one of the most famous models in all of Paris.” 

 

She blinked at him. “ _You?_ A _model?_ No way!” She studied his face, his hair, his eyes…

 

He _did_ look familiar…

 

“Wait…” She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes growing wide. “You…Adrien… You’re Adrien _Agreste_? Like, the Adrien Agreste? Son of _Gabriel_ Agreste?” She put her hands on her head, turning away. “Oh my god, I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I didn’t see it.” She grabbed one of her giant tomes off of her coffee table and flipped through it frantically. Adrien was beginning to regret telling her who he really was.

 

She stopped at a page covered from top to bottom with a full-body shot of Adrien, dressed in his father’s designs. She hoisted the book up and held it next to his face, comparing the real thing to the picture in the book. The Adrien that was sitting on her couch was a little shabbier; his hair was shaggy, and the clothes he wore were worn out. He looked tired compared to the lively man smiling brightly at the camera. However, there was no mistaking this face—This was Adrien Agreste, on her couch, in her apartment. 

 

“But… But…” She placed the book back down on the coffee table. She was speechless. 

 

Adrien was growing irritated. He didn’t imagine she would react this poorly.“But _what?”_ He stared at her. She didn’t look at him, still processing what she had just learned. 

 

A thought struck Adrien so hard and fast that his heart leapt up into his throat. He laughed bitterly. 

 

“I see,” He barked. Marinette turned quickly to look at him, surprised by his outburst. “I think I know what’s going on.” 

 

“Wha—“

 

He stood up and cut her off. “You’re surprised that the famous model _Adrien Agreste_ could be… could be someone like _this,”_ He gestured at himself. Marinette stared up at him in silent shock. “There’s no way the annoying and sloppy neighbor from upstairs could be the son of someone so esteemed in the fashion industry— _admit it_.” He looked down at her. “Gabriel Agreste, the top designer in Paris and every up-and-coming designer’s idol.” He shot her a look. Marinette felt a pang of guilt in her chest. 

 

Adrien was about to continue when his eye caught sight of a bright colored flyer sitting on her desk behind her. One he recognized. His heart stopped beating. 

 

“Oh my god,” he said, clumsily stepping over her legs and snatching the flyer off of her desk. “It’s a flyer for my dad’s contest.” He whirled around to face her, his eyes bright with anger. Suddenly, he appeared very sober. “It all makes sense now.” 

 

Marinette got up slowly. “Adrien, I swear, my friend just gave that to me. I didn’t even have any intention of entering.” She stepped closer to him, reaching out. “I didn’t know who you were, I swear.”

 

Adrien took a wary step back, the flyer clutched in his hand. “You knew… You knew this whole time, didn’t you? You were trying to get on my good side, hoping I would sway my father for you. You…” His eyes turned glossy, but his face was still pinched in anger. “You were trying to trick me.” He slammed the poster down on her desk. 

 

“I swear, I had no idea! Adrien!” Marinette didn’t know what to say. There was no way she could have known who he was. In fact, when she met him a couple nights ago, she _hated_ him. “Do I really seem like the kind of person who would do something like that?” 

 

He ignored her. He needed some time to think. “I can’t believe you said I was your _friend_.” The word _friend_ cut through the air like a knife. He walked past her, scooping his phone up off of the couch. “Good _luck_ , Marinette.”

 

The door slammed behind him, leaving her stunned and shaken in the middle of her living room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told ya'll there would be drama.


	6. Conflicted Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Marinette both have complicated feelings about what happened the night before. Adrien decides to make some changes. Marinette visits the bakery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting! I work a lot and I haven't had the time or energy to work on this, but here is an update! Please enjoy!!!

Marinette woke with a bitter taste in her mouth. At first she thought that the events from the night before were just a bad dream, but as she stirred in her bed, the memories swirled around in her head like a thick fog. 

 

It definitely did happen that way. 

 

She stared at her phone, which was sitting on her nightstand. Part of her wanted to immediately pick it up and check to see if Adrien had texted or called while she was asleep. Another part of her wanted to text him herself in attempt to explain herself. Neither of the options felt particularly satisfying, so she left her phone alone and got up to brush her teeth. 

 

It was going to be a long day. She thought about maybe texting Alya to see if she would like to meet up for coffee, but she couldn’t stomach the thought of explaining what had happened that night. Adrien was a good person, she knew that much; it was probably extremely difficult for him to trust anyone given what had happened with his mother and father. She didn’t excuse his behavior and expected him to apologize profusely, but she didn’t want to speak poorly of him to her friends, either. She tabled the idea of using her phone at all, and instead immediately got to work on some of her unfinished projects, casting aside the crumpled flyer that was still sitting on her desk. 

 

Meanwhile, Adrien was waking up in the apartment above her, a headache pulsing behind his eyes. The events from the night before were hazy, but he was certain of one thing: he had made a grave mistake. 

 

Instead of listening to what Marinette had to say, he ignored her entirely and allowed his paranoia get the best of him. The alcohol was a catalyst for his emotional outburst, but the reality was that he had let his insecurities get the better of him. Still, seeing the flyer from his father’s show left a bitter taste in his mouth. Marinette was a fan of his father, and whether or not she had known who he was or had just found out that night, her knowing possibly changed the dynamic of their relationship. He was caught between desperately wanting to know more about her, and the possibility that she was just going to use him to get close to his father. 

 

He grabbed his phone off of his nightstand and checked his notifications. There were a couple from work, one very sloppy drunk text from Chloé, and a few emails. Nothing from Marinette. He opened her contact and started to type out a few texts, none of which were worth sending. If he was going to talk to her, he was going to have to see her in person, but the thought of facing her made his stomach flip.

 

He decided he would no longer be drinking at parties. 

 

He thought about what Marinette said last night, about needing to change oneself. He couldn’t keep waiting for someone to show up and fix him, and he needed to stop relying to heavily on the idea that he could not help himself. The truth was, he needed to change, and he needed to start giving back to people more than taking from them. When he was younger, he wanted so badly to be a good person, but over the years, his father’s distance had made him wonder if he was worth something. His talk with Marinette made him realize that even without his father’s approval he could still be a good person, he could still help people, and he was still worth something. 

 

He was going to change. 

 

He struggled out of bed and quickly got ready for work. He hurried through his morning routine with practiced speed, popped some painkillers, and gave Plagg a quick scratch before rushing out the door. _First step: spend more time with Plagg,_ he thought.It wouldn’t be the first or last time he was late to work, but he was Adrien Agreste. He could do whatever he wanted. _Second step: start getting to work on time, and stop thinking with that mindset._

 

He stepped quickly down the stairs, pausing at the second floor. He debated, for a moment, going up to Marinette’s apartment and knocking on her door. He imagined her reaction to seeing him would not be a pleasant one, and quickly decided against trying to make amends so soon. It would probably take some time before she was ready to forgive him, and he needed time to sort out the way he felt about her. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to find out if she really did care about him, or if her relationship to him was more about meeting his father. He bristled at the thought. _Third step: somehow find a way to apologize to Marinette, and listen to what she has to say, even if it’s difficult to hear._

 

So the two of them went about their normal routines, thinking about the other every so often. Adrien was having a difficult time getting his head into the act of modeling, which he was continuously scolded for, and Marinette was making silly mistakes in her work that she hadn’t made since she was a teen. By lunch time, they were both frazzled and unable to focus on their respective jobs. 

 

Marinette decided to take a walk. It was particularly warm out for a fall day, warm enough to go without a heavy coat, and everyone seemed a little happier than usual. She wandered down the old street she knew so well, peeking into flower shops and watching the nicely-dressed French men and women walk by, noting their color choices and designs. She saw many _Gabriel_ jackets, purses, and shoes as she walked, and each sighting sent a wave of guilt through her. She couldn’t have known she had been idolizing someone so terrible all along. 

 

She came to her parent’s bakery without much consideration for where she was going. The sight of the large glass windows and her old balcony put her at ease, and she felt nostalgia creep up her throat. She visited her parents often, and each time she felt the same old love for her childhood and her friends. She also felt the same small ache she had felt a million times before, the one that made her feel like something was missing. She pushed the thought to the back of her head and opened the door, cheerfully shouting a greeting to her parents. 

 

“Maman! Papa! How are you doing today?” The bakery was busy by this time, but the regular customers were used to her visiting. She cheerfully gave them each a hello as she went behind the counter, immediately grabbing pastries and taking orders. 

 

“Ah! _Mon trésor!_ You don’t need to help out today!” Her father exclaimed, passing her with a tray and pecking her on the cheek. “You work so hard, you should take a break.” 

 

“Yes, you should go upstairs and rest for a while, I’ll come up with some lunch in a moment,” her mother chimed in. 

 

Marinette gathered a couple more pastries into a box and handed them to a customer before dusting off her hands. 

 

“Thank you, maman. I’ll see you in a bit!” She gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek before hurrying up to the apartment.

 

She missed living there so much. The small but inviting apartment hadn’t changed a bit since she moved out. Everything was always exactly in the same place, for her mother didn’t feel the need to change things, explaining that the apartment was perfect the way it was. Marinette looked lovingly at the photographs of her and her parents that sat on the bookshelves. 

 

It took her a moment to gather the nerve to visit her old room; often times she would sit for a long time there, looking at old projects she had never moved and photographs she didn’t bring with her to the new place. Her old bed was still there, along with her old desk, but much of her room had been packed up and brought to her own apartment. What was left felt more like a memory than a place, and the room had been partially turned into a storage space. She hardly ever slept in there when she came to visit, preferring the guest room instead.

 

It wasn’t that Marinette wasn’t happy with the way her life was now, because she was often very happy. She was grateful that her fashion career had picked up, and she loved her friends and her small apartment and her cat, Tikki. It was just that sometimes when she thought about her life when she was a teenager, it felt like something had been misplaced. Fate was a funny and messy thing, her mother always told her. She knew things happened for a reason, but Marinette often wondered if her fate should have been different. 

 

She heard a knock on the trapdoor that snapped her out of her thoughts. 

 

“You can come in! There really isn’t any need to knock, since I don’t live here anymore,” she laughed. 

 

“Old habits die hard, _ma chérie_ ,” her mother chuckled. “I have some sandwiches and tea, if you’d like to come eat with me.”

 

And so her and her mother sat at the table, eating and chatting about Marinette’s work and the bakery. 

 

“I’ve got a new neighbor. Do you remember Ms. Moreau? She moved out. There is someone new living in the apartment above me” Marinette said casually. 

 

“Oh, a new neighbor! What are they like?” 

 

Marinette chuckled. “Well, he’s kind of… He’s kind of a mess, honestly,” She said with a little more bitterness than she intended. “He keeps waking me up in the middle of the night. The other night he accidentally tried to break into my apartment.” With this, her mother gave her an alarmed look. “Oh, don’t worry! He was drunk and confused. I mean, that doesn’t sound any better, really, but he’s totally safe. He’s actually very sweet, he seems like he has a big heart.” She took a sip of her drink. “We had kind of a misunderstanding though, and I think he’s pretty mad at me?” Marinette was careful not to give away who he was or what exactly the misunderstanding was about. “He also way overreacted, and it kind of hurt my feelings, so now I’m not sure if I should apologize or be angry. I was wondering if you had any advice.” Marinette gave her mother a pleading look. 

 

Sabine thought for a moment. “Without knowing what the misunderstanding was about, I’m not sure if I’ll be much help…” The look on Marinette’s face told her she didn’t want to talk about it. “But, it sounds like both of you were hurt during whatever this fight was. If he seems angry with you, I would give him space and see if he comes to you. If not, you should try to explain what happened, but also make sure he apologizes for hurting your feelings.” 

 

Marinette looked at her hands. It made sense, of course, letting him cool off. However, she wasn’t really the type to sit and wait for someone else to come to her. She wanted to talk to him now. She wanted him to understand that she genuinely wanted to be his friend, and that she really did care about him, despite what had happened.

 

But she would listen to her mother’s advice as always, and wait for him to come to her. Her mother always new best.

 

“Thank you, maman. Talking about it really helped a lot. I think things will be okay between us; I really want to be friends with him. It would be nice to know someone who lives in the same building.” _And he also knows about fashion, and loves cats, and makes funny jokes, and is exceedingly handsome,_ she added in her head. 

 

She bid her parents a pleasant goodbye and said farewell to the customers in the bakery, stepping out into the sunshine. It really was a perfect day in Paris, and Marinette’s visit with her parents gave her a fresh outlook on things. She would eventually make amends with Adrien, she would finish her projects, and she would be okay. 

 

The day was so lovely and warm that she couldn’t have possibly predicted what would happen later that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O


	7. You Could Call It Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is amiss at the apartment building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone I'm back (sort of)! I'm sorry for the hiatus, but university picked up again and I drowned in work for school. I've had this chapter sitting in my drafts for like, months, and I thought about re-writing it, but I figured I would just give it to you guys as it is. I'm not 100% happy with it, but sometimes you just gotta post the damn thing. Anyways, updates will be sporadic but I will most likely finish this fic! When? I don't know! Thank you for being so patient! (P.S. It might be kind of a mess so I'm sorry about that! It is what it is!)

Adrien was pretty much entirely convinced he was going to get fired, no matter whose son he was. The morning had played out terribly; he was stumbling over the other model, posing unnaturally, and despite his best efforts, his smile looked more like a grimace. The director of the shoot was furious, to say the least. Despite how many times he told Adrien to take a break and clear his head, Adrien continued to make mistakes he hadn’t made since he was a teen. 

 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Marinette. 

 

He couldn’t figure out why he was so hung up on what had happened the night before. Sure, maybe it seemed like she could potentially be using him to get to his father, her being a designer and all, but there were people who had done much worse. Men and women alike who had tried to get close to him to advance their modeling careers, and people who had tried to sabotage him. He had even had anonymous death-threats sent to him and his father.

 

Thinking back, he was pretty sure none of them had bothered him as much as this. 

 

At his break for lunch, he took the opportunity to text Chloé back after she had sent him an incomprehensible drunk text that night. It wasn’t unusual, and often times he would reply to them during the day when his hangover had subsided. 

 

1:43AM Chloé: drieen this guy i wnet home with was terible just liek terribleeee god how lame 

1:43AM Chloé: thtat the last time i go home with a MAN

1:44AM Chloé: its onyl ladies from here on out babeye!!!!!!!

 

12:10PM Adrien: uh Chlo, i have no idea what any of these mean

12:10PM Adrien: “babeye” ?

 

12:12PM: Chloé: i don’t know what you mean, those are TOTALLY readable

12:12PM Chloé: the guy i went home with last night was a huge bore and i’m swearing off men forever, duh

 

12:13PM Adrien: ooooh okay yeah that tracks

 

12:13PM Chloé: anyways how is work? i’m suffocating over here, i have like 400 meetings in the next 2 hours 

 

12:14PM Adrien: uh it’s not great honestly, i’m totally out of my mind here 

 

12:14PM Chloé: did you drink too much last night? adrikins i told you to stay away from tequila

 

12:16PM Adrien: no, i just have something on my mind

12:16PM Adrien: or, i guess, someone on my mind

 

Adrien watched the small bubbled that indicated she was writing continuously disappear and reappear on the screen as Chloé typed out and deleted her messages at a rapid rate. 

 

12:18PM Chloé: WHAT? WHO? TELL ME WHO THEY ARE

12:18PM Chloé: ADRIEN AGRESTE YOU TELL ME RIGHT NOW

12:18PM Chloé: is it someone i know?

 

12:19PM Adrien: she’s just someone in my building, and it’s not like that

12:19PM Adrien: i’m pretty sure i made a huge mistake last night and freaked out at her without giving her a chance to explain 

12:19PM Adrien: and now i’m pretty sure she’s pissed at me

12:20PM Adrien: pls help :(

 

12:20PM Chloé: omg

12:20PM Chloé: i like wouldn’t even stress about it, just like say you’re sorry and flirt with her or something

12:21PM Chloé: you know, like really turn on the charm 

12:22PM Chloé: like idk buy her something with diamonds in it or something, poor girls love diamonds, like you can even have some of the ones i’m giving away (they’re so last year but she probably wouldn’t be able to tell)

12:23PM Chloé: omg hold that thought i’ve got to go, they need me in this meeting! let’s meet up later for dinner! ciao sweetie xoxoxo

 

Adrien stared at his phone for a while before signing and slipping it into his bag. Chloé had the best intentions (usually), but she wasn’t great with advice. _You know who would give really great advice in this situation_ , he asked himself. _Marinette_. He shuffled back to the studio and prepared for another four hours of botched photo shoots. His hatred of the work he did only increased with the number of mistakes he made, and he almost wished they _would_ fire him.

 

What seemed like an eternity passed, and finally Adrien was able to leave work. He met up with Chloé at their usual place, a high-end club that, thankfully, also had a quiet bar area where the two could chat. Chloé was already sitting at their usual table when he arrived, tapping away at her phone and sipping a gin and tonic. 

 

“Hey Chlo, who ya textin?” He gave her a quick peck before sliding onto the stool across from her. 

 

“I was completely serious when I said I was swearing off men, Adrien. I’m texting this cute girl I met at one of my events a little while ago.” She shot him a smug look and continued texting. “I’m never even looking at another man ever again,” she huffed. “Except you, of course, but we all know you’re off limits.” She said in _off limits_ a breathy voice, raising her eyebrows. “It would be gross to even think about it.” 

 

Adrien chuckled. “You’re right, that would be gross. Even though you were _so_ in love with me when we were 14,” He snickered. 

 

Chloé practically shrieked. “Ugh! I told you never to talk about that again! How embarrassing,” She shook her head. “I was just convinced I liked you because I didn’t know any better. Now I know that I’m way out of your league.” 

 

Adrien laughed again. “Alright, alright, you make a fair point. You’re totally out of my league,” he said, humoring her. The playful tone of his voice was not convincing, but Chloé chose to drop the subject altogether. 

 

“So, who is this mysterious person you’re having trouble with? What could you have done to piss her off so badly?” Chloé put down her phone on the table for the first time since he had arrived and looked at him intently. 

 

“Ah well... you know how everyone is always trying to get close to me so they can meet my dad or get some kind of modeling gig, whatever it is really. Well... I kind of accused her of trying to do the same thing, which now that I think about it, I really doubt she was. She’s a designer, and I saw a flyer for my dad’s competition on her desk, so I sort of freaked out?” Adrien shrugged, looking embarrassed.“I had also been drinking, which didn’t help. I mean, when I told her who I was she seemed genuinely surprised that it was me, but seeing the flyer made me immediately assume she had the worst intentions for being my friend. You know what I mean?” He was sure Chloé knew exactly what he meant. She was staring at him with a look that was practically dripping with sympathy. 

 

“I know it’s hard sometimes to let people in because we’re afraid they want to use our status, but if she didn’t even know who you were before, maybe it was a misunderstanding? I don’t know anything about the girl and frankly I don’t like the idea of you hanging out with a designer,” Chloé made a face. “But I think if it’s really bothering you, you should ask her what her side of the story is first, and then you can talk it out.”

 

Adrien stared at Chloé. “Chlo that’s actually... Really solid advice, thank you.”

 

She gave him a smug look and shrugged her shoulders. “What can I say, I’ve matured a lot since we were kids. It’s you that needs to grow up now,” she pointed at him with a mocking tone, but the look on her face was one of brutal honesty. 

 

Adrien knew this was true, of course. Chloé had, apart from her party habits, matured far more than he had since they were teens. He had always considered himself a pretty level-headed kid, and only realized later that there was so much more bubbling beneath the surface of his feeble good-boy model persona than he knew. He was angry, and he was bitter, and he was going to have to change that.

 

* * *

 

It was a little past midnight when Adrien finally made his way back to the apartment building. He was glad that, instead of dancing and drinking at the club like they usually did, he and Chloé had stayed up late at her house, marathoning movies. It was just as they had done as kids, except instead of the rare soda their parents would allow them, they sipped on wine. 

 

The landlord was long asleep when he walked through the lobby. He climbed the stairs to the apartment building quietly, careful not to disturb his neighbors. Most nights he would stumble up the stairs in a stupor after partying without worrying about how loud he was being, but tonight any of the wine he had had at Chloé’s was well out of his system. He felt strangely nervous tonight, being back in the building. It wasn’t because Marinette lived there, although he was nervous to see her again. It was an anxiety he couldn’t quite put his finger on—something just didn’t feel right, and he couldn’t tell if it was his sobriety that was the cause of his discomfort, or something amiss in the building. 

 

He was so deep in thought as he walked up the stairs that he almost passed the second floor without noticing that the door to apartment 204 was slightly ajar. 

 

Marinette’s apartment. 

 

_That’s strange_ , he thought, slowly making his way closer to her door. _This… isn’t right._ She’s not the type of person that would leave her apartment door wide open. 

 

He felt the hair on the back of his neck raise as he heard shuffling coming from beyond the door. A knot formed in his stomach as he carefully pushed the door open as quietly as he could. It was completely dark inside, and the muffled shuffling continued, now accompanied by voices coming from somewhere further back in the small apartment. 

 

A sharp scream pierced through the darkness.

 

Adrien rushed in.

 

* * *

Marinette had come home earlier after some light errands. She had forgotten, in her giddiness earlier that day, to pick up some supplies for one of her latest projects. It was one of her best pieces, really—a soft, delicate dress made of some of the most difficult material she had ever worked with. She was hand-stitching the beading into the top of it, through shear, light fabric, and had the bottom flow out and behind the legs, nearly resembling the tail of a jellyfish. 

 

It was almost ten now, and she planned to pull an all-nighter to finish the dress so she could show it to the design team she was working with the next day. Humming softly, she made her way up the stairs to the second floor, thankful to finally be back at the apartment. She balanced her bag of materials in one hand as she fumbled with her keys. When she went to unlock the door, however, she noticed something odd. There were strange scratches around the keyhole, ones she didn’t think were there before. She inspected them for a moment, wondering if she had accidentally scratched the door, or if Adrien trying to get into her apartment that night did the damage. Putting the thought aside, she opened the door and stepped into her dark apartment, leaving it ajar behind her. 

 

“Tikki! I’m home! Here, pretty kitty!” She said loudly into her apartment as she flicked on the light to the entryway and placed her purse in the closet. She passed the bathroom door and clicked on the light in the living room. Panic rose in her chest.

 

There was only silence. 

 

The fact that Tikki didn’t come when she came through the door signaled to Marinette that something was very wrong. She always came to her, mewling enthusiastically at the return of her dear owner. She needed to leave, she needed to go find help. There was someone in her apartment. 

 

Slowly, Marinette backed up, careful not to make any sounds. Her eyes darted around her small apartment: bedroom light is off, kitchen light is off, no one is in the living room. 

 

The bathroom.

 

Marinette whipped around just in time to see the face of her assailant as he knocked her unconscious.

 

* * *

 

 

Marinette woke up in the dark. She was still in her own apartment, on her own bed, with all of the lights turned out. At first she thought she had dreamed being knocked unconscious, but as she awoke she realized that her mouth was taped shut and her hands were tied behind her back. She laid still for a moment, assessing the situation. She had been knocked unconscious, and now she was being held captive in her own apartment. Panic gripped her and she thrashed about in the bedding, crying and struggling to break free. She looked around frantically in dark for anything that could cut her free. If only I really did keep a knife under my pillow, she thought absently. 

 

She heard a sound in the darkness that made her freeze. 

 

“Shhh, Marinette. Struggling won’t help you, sweetheart,” the voice cut through the dark and sent chills through her spine. A figure cloaked in shadows stood in the corner of her bedroom. “I’ve been watching you for some time now, and I know no-one will come to help you at this hour,” The figure cooed.

 

Marinette tried to speak, but though the tape came strangled noises instead. 

 

“The baker’s daughter, so sweet and innocent. It was love at first sight. The first time I stepped through those doors I knew instantly that you had to be mine.” The figure came closer, stepping into a small patch of moonlight that came through her bedroom window. “But you never even saw me, not even when I was standing directly in front of you.”

 

Marinette caught a look at the figure’s face in the moonlight. He was vaguely familiar as a regular at the bakery, but she had never had more than a couple casual conversations with him about the pastries or the weather. He was right—she had never noticed him. He was unassuming, and out of the hundreds of people that had passed through her parents’ bakery while she worked there, she hardly even remembered him. 

 

She would now. 

 

He stooped next to her, clicking on the light at her beside. The sudden brightness made Marinette flinch. He grabbed her by the shoulders and, against her struggling and crying, sat her upright on the bed. 

 

Caressing her face with the back of his hand, his bland face cracked open wide with an eerie smile. 

 

“You are so beautiful up close,” he cooed. “When you stopped coming in as often, I grew tired of waiting for you. I didn’t know how to live without seeing your face every day. You broke my heart.”

 

He stood up. “I know you’ll come to love me too, Marinette. I’ll do anything for you, anything you would like. I’ll take care of you as soon as you agree to come with me.” He gave her a sympathetic look. “Those bindings aren’t very comfortable, are they? It hurts me to see you like this.” He thought for a moment. 

 

“If you promise not to scream, I’ll take the tape off you mouth? Let’s have a talk.” As he said this, he pulled a knife out from behind his back and held it firmly in his hand. 

 

Marinette had been scared before, but at the sight of the knife she recoiled, shaking violently. Tears streamed down her face as a million thoughts raced through her mind. She thought about Ayla and Nino and how she needed to design the clothes for their wedding. She thought about the projects she hadn’t done yet. She thought about all of her friends, scattered about Paris now, years after school had finished. She thought about her parents, just down the street, asleep in their beds. 

 

Among all of these thoughts came a quiet plea for help. Please, she thought. Please, anyone. Please save me. She thought of him. 

 

In an inexplicable instant, she knew that he would come. There was no denying the feeling in her gut that he was nearby, that he was going to come by her apartment, maybe to apologize, or maybe just to pass by on his way to his own apartment. Whatever the reason, she knew; you could call it fate, 

 

You could call it luck. 

 

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. _He’ll trust me if I seem calm, he’ll trust me if I comply._ She nodded, and the tape came off. 

 

Adrien, please.

 

She screamed. 

 

It all happened so fast. Her bedroom door slammed open, revealing a disheveled Adrien, green eyes sharp with anger. 

 

He lunged at the intruder, grabbing his wrist and pushing him against the wall. The man struggled out of his grasp and leapt forward at Marinette, who was sitting stunned on the bed. Adrien quickly grabbed the man from behind, and Marinette could have sworn his eyes were glowing a piercing green. Spinning him around and slamming him into the bureau across from her bed, glass bottles were sent crashing to the floor. He snarled into the mans face like a wild animal. 

 

“Don’t you dare,” He panted, his voice strained and rough with anger. “Touch her.” 

The man panicked, slashing out wildly in front of him, but Adrien was too quick. A sharp pain shot through his arm as he felt the knife graze him, but the adrenaline in his system won out, and he moved with trained speed. 

 

Grabbing the arm he had just tried to strike him with, Adrien pulled it behind the man’s back and, and sweeping him off his feet, he slammed him face down on the ground. Grabbing the closest blunt object he could find, Adrien hit him across the back of the head, hard enough to knock him out but not hard enough to to any serious damage. He scrambled around the room, searching for something to tie him up with, eyes settling on a phone charger thrown carelessly on Marinette’s bureau. After making sure he was tied up securely, Adrien’s full attention was on Marinette. 

 

He rushed over to her, panic and concern written across his face. Using the knife, he freed Marinette’s hands and helped her remove the tape from her mouth. “Are you hurt?” He asked, looked her over several times. 

 

At first she seemed paralyzed, sitting stiff and dazed, blue eyes wide and wet. She looked at him, searching his face for a moment. He saved my life, she thought numbly. She realized that he was shaking.

 

All at once feeling returned to her, and she crumpled into him, sobs wracking her body.

 

“I w-was so stupid!” She sobbed. “My door!” Was all she could say. 

 

“Shh shh, it’s okay now Marinette.” He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here earlier.” 

 

Marinette looked up at him, tears still dripping down her face. “You shouldn’t be apologizing, stupid alley cat. You came at just the right time.” She tried to smile, but it quickly turned into a grimace. “I thought I was going to die. I really…” She trailed off. “Thank you, Adrien.” 

 

It was his turn to cry. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked down at her, and he pulled her in close once again. His voice cracked as he spoke. 

 

“I was so worried about you, the minute I saw your door open I knew something was wrong,” he said, his voice muffled by her hair. “I’m so sorry about getting angry at you, about the thing with the flyer. I didn’t even give you a chance to explain yourself, and I said all of those things…” Adrien hugged her tighter.

 

“I know you didn’t mean it Adrien, I know,” She said, reaching up and stroking the hair out of his face. “We can talk about this, but first, we should really call the police.” She gave a half-hearted chuckle, still shaking with fear. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading this far!! I haven't updated in a while because, well, I went back to school and I simply don't have the spoons! I'm active on my tumblr, chatpeach, and may occasionally post updates about the fic and maybe some drabbles! I'll try to find the energy to update this fic because I adore it and I want to finish the story, but I can't be sure when that will happen <3


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